Friday, 31 October 2014
Anyone who has read my blog more than a time or two will be aware that on the (rare) occasions when I feel like a solitary celebration/restorer, whisky is my tincture of choice.
For the past two weeks, and for the next four or five my dearly loved next-door neighbours have been/ will be having an extension built on their too-small house.
This for me is a good thing, since the alternative would be their departure to a new, larger house.
They prefer to enlarge their existing home rather than start house-hunting, so I am (relatively) happy to endure the drilling, hammering, churning of cement, etc in order to keep my lovely friends close.
They have a holiday home in Spain and are currently spending half-term there, so they are escaping the worst of the disruption. I, on the other hand am not.
Raising my bedroom blind at 7.25 am and coming face-to-face with a young man on top of a skip emptying a barrow is not my idea of Heaven. Worse by far, however, is the fact that every daylight hour sees me a prisoner in my own home. Unable to work in the front garden in the last warm days of the year. Unable to open my front door for any reason without a (friendly) greeting.
Today they departed at four twenty five, and by four twenty six I was out in the garden, loppers in hand cutting frantically at the white buddliea and a couple of the Hibiscus in the rapidly fading light.
Yes, I know I could go out there while 'they' are there, but I'd much rather not.
Breathing a sigh of re;lief at having achieved at least something, I came back in and watched "The Chase" on TV and as the fireworks began to crash and whizz outside (Halloween), I poured myself a very large whisky and ginger and headed upstairs to the computer.
Posted by Ray Barnes at 6:22:00 pm